


Of Camaraderie And Confidence

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2019-01-19 22:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12419463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: [Fic Exchange '07] The tighter the knot is tied, the harder it is to undo. The friendship of four boys, one which has weathered storms over high seas, foundations are shaken by the presence of a certain red-haired siren.





	Of Camaraderie And Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Of Camaraderie and Confidence**

[fic exchange '07]

 

 

 

The halls of Hogwarts invite secrets. They stand proudly, a thousand years of magical mishaps, pranks and outbursts withstood with only faint scars as residue. The castle itself is surreptitious, its majestic form shrouded by ruin. The stairs that shift, the covert corridors, the erroneous entrances, the very charm of the castle lies in its secrets.

 

Inside these obscure halls, the veil of secrecy remains. On Saturday nights at the stroke of midnight, The Witching Hour begins. With it, out sneak students from every dorm, bottles clutched tightly, make-up perfected and their restless toes wander to a room. The entrance is opposite a tapestry of awkwardly dancing trolls and it is always mysteriously equipped for fun. The students' prying eyes know nothing of the cosy fire and mismatched sofas where the teachers finally find their peace and quiet. There is a discreet corner where rows of assorted spirits sit – always the same, brandy for Mcgonagall, firewhisky for Flitwick, vodka for Bolskanov, mead for Slughorn, tequila for Dumbledore – and a blind eye is turned when a little too much goes missing. Each day magical secrets shift atoms and defy physics, overcoming gravity, time and space.

 

And then there is the looming war. It's shadow moves swiftly, creeping towards them, unbidden and terrifying. The silent dread paints lines on the eyes of the adults. They meet quietly, murmuring to each other as the rumours grow more dreadful and more dreadfully real. And while innocence lets the children go about their lives, no one can stop the whispers and the subtly growing panic, like a tumour against the castle's heart.

 

Yes, the halls of Hogwarts were made for secrets and so it is no surprise to find four boys with their heads knocking and their voices lowered. This is perhaps the greatest secret of all. The passageways have been wholeheartedly explored and nothing can mask the scent of teenagers misbehaving but nobody knows about these four boys' misdeeds.

 

They are squashed into one bed, limbs interlocked and breath mixing, and every few moments one shifts to regain circulation. The drapes are pulled shut so the surrounding air is uncomfortably hot but they don't notice. In the centre lies a crinkled piece of paper, several ancient volumes and an inordinate amount of empty sweet wrappers.

 

Their secret is perhaps the strongest glue in their friendship. The boys are not natural associates – aristocratic Sirius Black, moral-filled James Potter, overlooked Peter Pettigrew and reserved yet oddly dominant Remus Lupin. While the outgoing and vivacious natures of Sirius and James seem inevitably suited, the boys' families ensure they are not inherent allies. And, while Peter is drawn to the powerful, the powerful are most definitely not drawn to him. Remus is constantly surprised to have friends, for how can a creature like himself deserve such faithful comrades?

 

"If we just snuck through here," says Sirius, pointing at the paper, "we could easily explore around _here_." He points again to a place slightly to the right of his original position.

 

"Sirius, no. You remember what happened last time we got that close to people," Remus says, caution needling its way towards his vivacious, reckless friend. He and Sirius stare at each other for a long moment until Sirius looks away, admitting a kind of defeat.

 

"Fine, then where is safe enough for you?"

 

"Boys, boys," James asserts, "Let's go into the mountains, we can't fail with the mountains."

 

Sirius sighs dramatically. "But Prongs, we've _been_ there so many times. It's dull."

 

"You can chase rabbits. Besides, I was looking at my dad's old maps in summer and apparently there are cave structures in this" – he gestures carelessly - "mountain caused by the influx of magical energy from Hogwarts or something."

 

Interest spreads like ripples across the boys' features and they lean in towards their map.

 

"Caves? As in bats?" asks Peter worriedly.

 

Sirius and James snort and even Remus can't hide an amused grin. "Bats, Pete? What? Scared they'll get in that precious mop of blond locks?"

 

"Bats eat rats." His nose twitches. Sirius shifts so he can swing a lofty arm around Peter's shoulders. Remus has a familiar look on his face, one that is caught between sympathy and glee and makes him look beyond his seventeen years and makes his eyes twinkle.

 

Sirius pats Peter on the back. "Pete, my good man. I'll protect you with my very blood, my sweat, my soul shall not rest until you are far from their tiny claws." He laughs a strong, barking laugh that is contagious and soon they are all chuckling and even Remus forgets the potent tug of the moon for a frozen second.

 

***

 

But the moon's rays are like pins against his skin. His muscles tense as they pierce through and take root in his blood and they pull and pull, a constant tide. Like the roaring of the sea he can hear it calling him, getting louder. The tide is strongest when the moon is naked, like now, and he blinks and suddenly he's no longer laughing with his friends but alone in a creaking shack, hyper-aware of the pale light that touches everything with soft, wicked fingers.

 

He is waiting for pack, restless, his breath hot against the night's cool air. He howls and tears at flesh and fur; it is not the wolf's nature to wait. He scratches at the bolted door and whines because he knows pack should be there and they're not.

 

***

 

James grabs at a piece of glistening, silvery fabric and scurries to the window. He looks out at the picturesque countryside and groans. "Hurry up, it's near sunset!"

 

Sirius pops his dripping head out of the bathroom door and yelps. "Bloody hell, how'd we miss that?" He emerges wrapped hastily in a crimson towel and rushes to his bed so it swings precariously in a way that would have made any woman present hold her breath. He throws on a shirt that proclaims in loud letters _Zeppelin_ and a pair of worn jeans.

 

Peter is sitting on his bed looking as superior as he can manage wearing an oversized black jumper. "I told you there wasn't time for a shower, Padfoot."

 

"Do you know what it's like having a dog's sense of smell and not being clean?" He is fumbling with his zipper and gesturing towards the door, "Let's go!"

 

"Dogs always smell pretty terrible to me," Peter says as he shuts the door. They hurry down the stairs, James looking pregnant as he's stuffed the invisibility cloak under his shirt.

 

"They smell like dogs. Musty and all that. Human smell is much worse, like treachery." James raises an eyebrow. Sirius shrugs flippantly. James shakes his head. Sirius flicks his tongue out in defiance. They continue into the common room, which is packed with tired students.

 

Instinctively James seeks out a pair of emerald green eyes. He finds them, sparkling with reflected orange from the cosy fire. He grins and she smiles. Sirius sighs. "James, we're late, remember? You can sprout nonsense about angels and rainbows tomorrow."

 

His eyes don't leave hers. "I'll just be a second." He walks over the overstuffed couch where a fiery-haired kiss awaits. He leans over and whispers in her ear and her giggles float over to Sirius and Peter. Peter watches with interest, especially during the fleeting kisses. Sirius holds himself tall, reproachful. His noble upbringing shines through in everything but his eyes. They dart between James and Lily in unspoken turmoil, without the familiar mischievous sparkle.

 

Lily reaches a hand up to touch James' hair. She messes it playfully and pulls him towards her lips. He melts towards her willingly.

 

"Are they bloody serious?' Sirius says and doesn't even make his trademark pun. "James!"

 

James is snapped out of his reverie by the ferocity of Sirius' expression. He says something to Lily and walks over to his friends, grinning apologetically. "Sorry, guys," he begins, but Sirius is already out the door and Peter has already given him a blokey thumbs up.

 

The warmth of the common room is left behind as they hurry down the gloomy halls. Sirius strides ahead for a while, not glancing back but keeping to a constant rhythm with his echoing footsteps. Eventually, James catches Sirius and puts a firm hand on his shoulder. "What's up with you?"

 

Sirius scowls. "We're already late, Moony's probably sitting in that dingy shack alone, tearing at himself and you're flirting with your girlfriend? There was a time when you'd've reprimand _me_ for this kind of thing."

 

James draws back and straightens, brows furrowed. "Exactly, Sirius! It's alright when you throw yourself at some brainless legs but as soon as I look at a girl you get all moody and judgemental?" Their eyes are locked in a violent glare. Peter shifts uncomfortably and chews at his sleeve. He opens his mouth to speak but they're off again. Sirius and James are intense in nature. They love as fiercely as they hate, but set them off and angry passion spills out and logic takes a holiday to Cuba.

 

"Can't you bloody see yourself? It's sickening; the kisses, the giggles. You're a walking cliché! And what happened to Twenty Questions with your host Lily Evans? You've placated her with love, have you?"

 

The mood switches as James breaks the glare and looks down. "Well, er, you see –"

 

Understanding dawns on Sirius. His eyes widen and he has to pick his jaw off the floor. "Oh no, James. You didn't." Peter looks between his two friends, trying desperately to keep up. The stone walls seem to cast shadows upon James that make him smaller.

 

"It's not what you think, Sirius," he starts to explain.

 

"Not what?" asks Peter, befuddled.

 

Sirius takes an outraged step backwards. "You told her? You told Lily-bloody-Evans everything we said we'd never tell?" He is fuming and broken. He brushes back the hair that plays about his eyes as if it can help him to see more clearly.

 

Peter says quietly, "You told Lily about us?" His voice contains the same note of shattered trust that is rippling through Sirius'.

 

"You don't understand."

 

Sirius' features change to something more sinister than outrage. "You're right. I don't. She knows everything, then?" James nods. "God, James. It's not even yours to tell."

 

Sirius breathes heavily, shaking from his toes to his soul. The mildew-stained air calmly caresses his cheeks and his arms but still he shakes, his boiling blood heating his body and his magic almost crackling in the silence. Seeing this, James lets words run out of his mouth unchecked. "She knew about Moony, though. He told her, ages ago, see. And she knew we were sneaking out on full moons so she put two and two together 'cause she's clever like that."

 

Sirius coughs mockingly. "The wonders of Lily Evans, is it? Don't think I can really stand any more of that bull."

 

As if uninterrupted, James continues desperately. "She thought we were risking our lives; she was so worried. I had to tell her, Padfoot, she would've tried to stop us or told someone or something." James tries to catch his best mate's eye but Sirius won't look at him. A portrait of an elderly man wearing a floral nightgown scratches his nose and looks on with interest.

 

"Not our fault your girlfriend's a Snitch," Sirius says cruelly and stalks off.

 

Peter watches him for a second. His face scrunches up in indecision and then he throws a half-apologetic scold at James. "Maybe you shouldn't come tonight," he says and trots off after Sirius.

 

James stands in the cold corridor. His shoulders droop, his head is dropped. The familiar confidence of James Potter - Quidditch star, intellectually exceptional, charismatic, handsome, born leader – lies in shattered pieces amongst the broken trust. The halls that have so often nursed secrets here witness the collapse of one.

 

James gazes at the blank, empty wall into which his friends have disappeared, wondering if he should follow. He wants to mend it with a _Reparo_ and have everything be fine. He wants Sirius to love Lily because he knows they'd get on so well if they'd just accept it all. He wants to untangle his life, to sew together the broken threads and brush them straight and simple.

 

So he runs. He runs after the cold shoulders of his friends because he can't face himself if he doesn't. The wind whips his hair even messier, whips away Lily's touch, and the corridors amplify the sound of his thudding strides so that anybody within a floor's radius will hear him. He runs fast because he understands the weight of the secret and the rarity of the friendships and he can't lose that, he doesn't know how to live without it.

 

He's outside before he sees them, the tall, dark boy and the shorter, blond one. They are walking quickly but their feet fall like lead to the earth. "Wait!" he shouts. They pause and turn. Sirius moves to continue his death march until Peter grabs his shoulder and says something that James can't hear. They both glower.

 

James is before them now and, though his breath is still unbound, he beings to ramble. "Please, guys. I know you're angry and I understand why but please, don't take it out on me yet. Just, after tonight." He looks up at the unclothed moon. "Remus needs all of us tonight and though I'm sure you'd like to rip my head off or something equally gruesome, can we just, for the moment, forget it? I can't sit in the common room waiting and if I ever want your trust... I just can't."

 

He bends over and starts to catch his liberated breath, hands on each knee. He can't look at them just yet and face the aversion and rage that is surely there. Sirius and Peter glance at each other. The forest groans chillingly and somewhere a true wolf howls, calling to the wild. They know they need James, they always have. Not only the stag's muscles and strength but also the calm, shrewd nature that stops Sirius from bounding away excitedly and Peter from shrinking into the shadows. They forget that the wolf is wild and they need the stag to tame him.

 

"All right. But tomorrow you're not playing any more get-out-of-Azkaban-free cards," Sirius says and Peter nods in agreement. They walk in silence towards the violent tree, which waits, cunningly still, filtering the moon's rays.

 

When they are just outside its range the branches start to swing chaotically, frantically attacking the targets. It is time to change, to mix spirits and natures and become the animal that they lock beneath the surface but is now roaring to be free. Each can feel the tug. Sirius bounces a little, eager and thrilled to be out in the fresh air on an adventure. Peter trembles and twitches and steps away from the canine. James stands stoically and waits for the action to uncoil. Tension races between them and each is nervous to make the first move.

 

Sirius uses the only method he knows to break moments like these.

 

"So, Prongs. What did she think of you being a bleedin' deer?"

 

Peter laughs.

 

"Exact words were 'manly' and 'impressive', I think," James replies.

 

And then they change and follow the dirty path until they are, once again, pack and secret, wolf, dog, stag and rat.


End file.
